One Step Forward, Two Steps Back
by AJuicyOrange
Summary: Ziva has spent her whole life ignoring her feelings when it comes to men, and Tony is no acception. But a brief undercover mission brings them closer than ever and Ziva finds herself wrapped in a sick love story of her own. Cancer, love, and death form her fate and all she can think about is how whenever she takes one small step forward, fate forces her to take two big steps back.
1. Chapter 1

Tiny droplets of water dappled the window pane and slid down the glass in little rivers. She had always like the rain; whenever it rained she liked to think that the world was being cleansed. The harsh, unforgiving world would be made new during the storms. Everything would smell fresh, and life would seem to open up the possibility of starting over.

After all that had happened, she deemed it impossible for her to start over. It was, after all, the small things that got you in the end.

The small things, as she had begun to call them, were always noticed by Ziva. Even when she was under pressure, or distressed, she could spot the small things from a mile away.

Right now, she was distressed, so her mind wandered and her eyes assessed, taking in the small details. The walls of the safe house were painted a pale yellow, the paint job clearly old, for the paint was peeling slightly in the corners. The meager decor did nothing to lighten the mood; drab paintings of what looked like pears riding one-eyed giraffes lined the walls, their value close to nothing. The carpet beneath her bare toes was maroon and unsettlingly squishy, and the hard wooden chair which she sat upon pressed against her aching buttock, her knees pulled tightly to her chest. But what stood out the most was the steady ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of the room; it seemed to keep time with the pitter-patter of the rain drops on the roof and the beat of her heart.

The heart that didn't even belong to her. It had always belonged to him.

_Tick-tock, tick-tock._

She listened to the sound intently.

_Tick-tock, tick-tock._

It seemed to be taunting her, as though to say, _see? This is how long you have been living without him._

She turned her gaze back toward the window, trying to ignore the ticking of the clock. But it was no use. She watched the rain drops glide, her solemn brown eyes drooping with fatigue. Blinking her thick lashes, she rested her chin on the window ledge.

Oh, the things she would do for a fresh start of her own.

...

Have you ever felt like your thoughts and feelings don't belong to you? Like they are swirling around your head in a jumbled mess, making no sense what-so-ever. Almost like you are watching a movie of your own life, but not realizing that it's you on the screen.

That seemed to be Ziva's life.

Each week passed like clockwork. Monday morning she filed into work, head cloudy with sleep, and large yawns filling the air. She'd get assigned a new case, some sort of petty officer that overdosed on methamphetamines, or a marine that decided to kill for hire. Tony would throw in a few movie references and she'd go through the week, plot twists presenting themselves at the least convinient moments. If she and the rest of the team were lucky, the case would be over by Thursday night at the earliest.

Endless cases. Endless names. Endless _death_.

This week's case had started out normal; a navy chaplain and his wife had been hit by a car outside the Adam's House hotel. It didn't seem as though there was much to investigate. The driver of the car showed no signs of malicious intent, and had no connection to the chaplain or his wife. Everything seemed to be wrapping up, but then the inevitable happened: a plot twist. It first presented itself on Wednesday mid-morning; Tony had been drinking his morning cup of coffee, stirring in the multiple packets of sugar he usually added in. McGee was typing hurriedly on his computer, and Ziva was sitting at her desk, checking on what McGee called "chatter". That's when she found out about a heist about to take place later in the month that involved the chaplain and his wife.

Naturally, Tony and Ziva were paired once again. Tony only gave his consent because he couldn't help but notice the jealous look on McGee's face. Ziva, on the other hand, wished she could decline, for she was not looking forward to spending a whole three weeks with Tony in a small hotel room pretending to be in love. Sharing the same bed? Out of the question. But she would do it. It was part of her job.

"So, Ziva," Tony chuckled softly. "You'll finally get a taste of what it's like to love someone like me."

She didn't reply. She decided some things were better left unsaid.

...

"This is Chaplain Mark Wharamby's file?" Tony asked, opening the manilla folder and scanning the documents inside.

"This is Gianna Wharamby, Chaplain Wharamby's wife," Ziva said. It was more of a statement than a question.

"Not really much to go on is there?" Tony said, frowning. Ziva was dissapointed too and a bit worried. The file did not give enough information for her to be safely taking the place of the chaplian's wife. She knew close to nothing about her. This made Ziva unsure of herself, but she snapped herself out of her worried daze and accepted the file without complaint.

Tony and Ziva entered the hotel Saturday morning, dressed in fancy clothes, which seemed appropriate considering how rich the couple was when McGee had opened their bank accounts. Of course, they didn't have their guns, and to tell the truth, Ziva felt a little exposed without it.

They checked into the penthouse, a little extravagant for Ziva's taste. But hey, she wasn't paying for it. The penthouse was beautiful to say the least. It had mahogany tables and furniture, with a crimson bedspread, golden curtains and a complimentary fruit basket that sat like a cornucopia atop the coffee table. Okay, maybe staying in a hotel room wouldn't be so horrible.

"Mark, honey," Ziva gave a light laugh for emphasis, "could you unpack the suitcases while I call the concierge for a dinner reservation?"

"Of course sweet cheeks," Tony answered, eyes lighting up when he called her by her special nickname. She half wanted to reprimand him for using a nickname that could possibly blow their cover if anyone close to the Wharambys heard him. But at the same time, she glowed on the inside, feeling special and giddy, trying really hard not to give away that she was feeling this. She hardly ever felt it. There were fleeting moments where she had this feeling, and they were always when she was with Tony.

She walked over to the phone which sat on the nightstand next to the bed. She touched the smooth handle of the receiver and place it to her ear, a loud beep extending through the phone. She paused, suddenly realizing that she had no idea what or who to call. If they were to change locations, they had to notify NCIS; it was protocol. But neither Tony nor Ziva were bugged yet, so there was no way to contact Gibbs.

After a moment's hesitation, she placed the receiver back on the stand and turned to leave. Just as she turned her back, the phone sprung to life, emitting a loud ring that caused her to jump.

Tony looked over his shoulder, a smirk on his face that was betrayed by the look of curiosity that was quickly spreading.

_Who is it?_ His eyes seemed to ask her, and she took a stab at answering back with her eyes. _I don't know. _

She shrugged. In all truth, it could be anyone; the concierge, our contacts for the heist. There was only one way to know for sure. Answer it.

Hiding her uncertainty, she picked up the phone delicately, trying to decide how to answer it. Did Gianna Wharamby have a signiture greeting? A certain tone of voice that she only used when speaking over the phone?

Pushing these questions to the back of her mind, she said, "Hello?"

"Gianna?" The voice on the other end called, sounding familiar. Gibbs.

"Eric, how are you?" Ziva said, playing along to the cover Gibbs was trying to build incase they were being recorded. She felt more relaxed now that she knew who it was that was calling her, and words seemed to flow easier.

"Wonderful thanks," Gibbs said chortling. She half wanted to laugh; Gibbs, chortling? This was not his style at all. Jenny must be somewhere in the vicinity.

"How did you get this number?" She asked, hoping to soon understand exactly what it was that Gibbs was calling for.

"I heard from your sister that you and Mark were going to be in town staying at the Adam's House hotel and I just had to call." He explained, sounding positively enthused. "And Veronica and I have decided to invite you for dinner at the Roof-Top Steak House down the street from your hotel. Would you care to join us?"

There. That was why he was calling. He was covertly telling them where to go.

"We would love to," Ziva said, glancing up at Tony who had just arrived at her side, obviously confused.

"Great, see you then," Gibbs chortled again, and Ziva couldn't help but smile. They hung up, and Ziva filled Tony in on tonight's plans. He rubbed his hands together, obviously itching to get started.

Things seemed to be slightly turning up. Ziva had forgotten how much the team had her back, and now, with those worring thoughts behind her, she had room to truly be excited.

* * *

><p><em>Hi, my name is Kaylee and I will be writing this fanfic. I love NCIS and I will try to make this as close to the show as possible. :) The description was really terrible because I only had a certain amount of characters, so thanks for sticking with me. I'll update soon. <em>

_-Kaylee 3 _


	2. Chapter 2

The restaurant was warm and inviting. It was a large building lit up with thousands of little lights, with big, oak front doors and black velvet table cloths.

They were brought to their table, Tony awkwardly pulling out a chair for Ziva to sit. The table was set for four, the china plates sparking. Gibbs and the made-up Veronica were set to arrive soon, and Ziva could help but wonder who Gibbs would bring to pose as his wife. Tony had told her earlier that it would be funny if he brought Jenny, and she agreed. He could bring Jenny and everyone would take it as a sign, yet if he didn't bring her, everyone would gossip that it was because he didn't want to mix his personal feelings with a case. Either way, it seemed Gibbs couldn't win.

A whole five minutes went by before either of them decided to speak, which was odd since Tony was always talking.

"I'd like to kiss ya, but I just washed my hair," Tony said, catching Ziva completely off guard. She almost fell out of the chair, but then she remembered they were undercover and he was supposed to say things like that.

She had a strong urge to hit him, but resisted. For some strange reason she felt dissapointed, but she vanquished the feeling without a moment's hesitation and answered, "Um, thank you?"

"1932, Cabin in the Cotton? Never heard of it? Ah, well that would be something to show you when we get back to our room." He said excitedly.

"Among other things," Ziva said suggestively, without looking up from her empty plate. This is what a married couple talks about, right? Enjoying each other's company and flirting?

She glanced up to find Tony smiling coyly, chewing on a piece of bread, his eyes sparking. His emotion seemed so real. She tried to ignore his fake flirty-ness...it was fake, right? She focused on the bread crumbs that were spilled all over his dress shirt. She found this tactic didn't help much because the shirt he was wearing was the exact same color as his emerald green eyes. She squinted, focusing harder and she saw Tony's concerned look out of the corner of her eye.

"Geeze, Sweet Cheeks," he said, chuckling, "you could make flowers wither with that gaze."

"Sorry," she said, snapping out of her focused mindset. "I was just thinking."

"About?"

"Losing you," she answered, stretching the truth slightly. She smiled and reached to grab his hand that sat limp on the table. It was okay to admit things like that, after all, they were supposed to be a loving married couple.

Tony opened his mouth to answer when Gibbs arrived at the table with Jenny. He smothered a snicker as Gibbs pulled out a chair for the redhead and then sat down himself. Ziva couldn't help but smile.

"How are you, Eric?" She asked, putting on a toothy smile and leaning forward. "Veronica?"

"Wonderful, darling, thank you," Jenny said, drawing out the word "darling" so it sounded more like _dahling_.

"We have not seen you in so long," Tony said, smiling warmly.

"True," Gibbs said, holding up a finger, a mysterious smile playing on his face. "That is why we have brought gifts."

"Oh, no, you didn't have to," Tony and Ziva said simultaneously. They looked at each other and laughed.

"Really though, we did not bring anything for you," Ziva said, twisting her fingers in her lap. She knew that by "gifts" Gibbs meant earpieces and cuff links, but what was he going to do? Hand them over the table in jewelry boxes? She looked up at Gibbs, a smile on the outside, but inside she felt uncertain.

"Oh, no matter," Gibbs was using such perfect English, that Ziva wanted to leap across the table and yell, _who are you, and what have you done with the real Gibbs?!_

But she didn't; instead, she accepted the black suede boxes Gibbs handed across the table with an embarrassed smile, repeating, "oh you did not have to" over and over. She didn't dare open them right there; she tucked them inside her purse for later.

Dinner passed quickly; it consisted of small talk and "catching up", even though most of what they said was made up. Tony and Ziva exchanged loving couple glances and grasped each other's hands while they were waiting for their dinner.

When it was time to say parting words to Veronica and Eric, Gibbs hugged Ziva and whispered in her ear, "Tone it down a bit, you're supposed to be married, not hanging on each other's every word."

They pulled apart, and Ziva laughed. "It was wonderful seeing you,"

...

Tony and Ziva rushed up to their room, anxious to place the bugs. Everything seemed to be going pretty well; the heist members were not set to contact them until Tuesday, and since it was Saturday night, they were allowed to go wherever until then, as long as they were bugged.

They both took turns in the large and ornate bathroom, placing the small, tan earwigs into their ear canals. Ziva shivered when she slid hers inside; she had been wearing them ever since she joined Mossad, but they still made her feel weird when slipped in.

...

"What do you say we go to the Washington Memorial?" Tony asked early Sunday morning, rolling over on his side to give Ziva a morning kiss. She stiffened when his lips touched her forehead, and he glanced at her with a worried expression. She waved him off.

"Sounds wonderful," Ziva answered, smiling warmly. She tapped Tony's cheek with two fingers lightly and he gave a toothy grin. She climbed out of bed, her nightgown clinging to her legs. She could feel Tony's eyes on her back, watching her. Padding over to the dresser, she slid the shoulder strap of the nightgown off of her shoulder and looked over at him.

He raised an eyebrow, a smile twisting his mouth. Then, he slowly rolled out of bed and locked himself in the bathroom.

Despite her suggestiveness at last night's dinner, they did not fake sex that night. They just went to bed like normal single people, which made Ziva wonder, how much sex _do_ married couples have?

She continued to change, smiling and humming happily to herself. She was pulling a white trench coat around her shoulders when Tony finally emerged from the bathroom, his hair spiked with enough hair spray to make a hole in the ozone layer.

"Ready?" He asked, taking her arm.

She laughed. "Yes, my love," she paused, placing a finger to her lips and pointing down with another. "As soon as you put some pants on."

...

They arrived at the Washington Memorial 45 minutes later, the cold winter air nipping at their noses. Ziva's cheeks were flushed red, and her head sank deeper and deeper into her warm coat. She probably looked like an albino turtle. She stole a glance at Tony and was relieved to find he wasn't looking at her. Then she pushed the feeling away. Why, all of a sudden, did she care about what she looked like? She had never cared before. Even so, she stood up straighter and observed the giant obelisk that stood in front of her. Hopefully she didn't look like a turtle anymore...

"Beautiful, is it not?" Tony asked, interrupting her self-conscious thoughts. His eyes glowed with amazement. "Did you know that it it's the worlds tallest, free-standing stone structure? It stands over 555 feet! It was so tall, that they did not finish building it until 1884."

"I was not aware that you are such a history buff," Ziva replied, slightly impressed.

"Well, you know, it all comes from my vast knowledge," Tony replied, not bothering to be modest. "That and the documentary I watched last night when I couldn't sleep through your snoring." Ziva rolled her eyes; she did _not_ snore.

"You were pretty loud, Ziva,"

She jumped before feeling the slight tickle of the earwig in her ear and remembering that McGee could hear them too. Tony smirked.

"Oh, good, so I'm not crazy," Tony said, pretending to wipe sweat from his forehead. She punched him in the arm, and he let out one of his strangled cries.

"You two could really be a couple," McGee remarked. If there was one thing that Ziva was sure of, it was that they would _never_ be a couple.

"Do you have a death wish?" Tony said through his teeth, speaking to McGee but loking at Ziva. Even though he was trying hard to hide it, she could see the slight sparkle in his eyes. Was she imagining it?

It was gone almost as soon as it came, and they fell silent. At first the silence felt comfortable as though between friends, but it did not last long. It deepened to the point where it felt like they had to force their eyes to stay focused on the memorial.

"Well, I don't know about you, Sweet Cheeks, but it seems as though things are wrapping up here," Tony said, finally breaking the silence. Ziva's eyes were getting tired of staring.

"Alright," Ziva said, her eyes flicking over to focus on his green ones. "What do you suggest now?"

"Hm," Tony paused to think and his stomach let out an enormous grumble. Ziva shut her eyes in an attempt not to guffaw loudly, and ended up snorting. Tony chuckled and they both started to laugh.

"I guess that means breakfast," Ziva remarked, her voice coming out light and cheery as a result of laughing.

...

The restaurant they chose was next to a skating rink, so Tony pointed happily to it and suggested that they go ice skating afterwards. As thrilled as Ziva was for the opportunity to show her moves on the ice, this was doing nothing to help lessen her feelings for Tony.

The breakfast joint was called The House of Pancakes; a small, quaint building that smelled wonderfully of warm pancakes doused in syrup. She breathed it all in, savoring the wonderful aromas that wafted from the open door. As they were showed to their table, Tony proceeded to tell her everything he knew about the place. Just when he started to tell her about what ingredients went into their famous carrot cake pancake, a waiter approached them to take their orders.

It was truly a wonderful place; every inch was decorated in some sort of Christmassy item. Ziva did not know what most of then signified, but she still enjoyed the happiness that they seemed to bring everyone in the vicinity. The cheerful surroundings, she noticed, had also acted on Tony. His cheeks were rosy, his green eyes animated as he spoke of another famous pancake. His arms moved around wildly as though to accentuate his love for the place. She watched him, placing her chin in her hands contentedly. She finally had an excuse to stare at him without him suspecting anything. Not that Tony was good eye candy anyway...

"Would you stop please? Some of us have not gotten to eat yet." McGee yelled into their earwigs, causing Tony reach up and rub his ear.

"McKilljoy hasn't had his breakfast yet?" Tony asked in a patronizing tone. "Well, that wasn't smart, was it? Didn't your mother ever tell you that breakfast is the most important meal of the day?"

"Not my idea, Tony," McGee said, and Tony clucked his tongue. "Gibbs wanted me to supervise you two."

"Supervise us?" Ziva asked, her eyebrows furrowing. The waiter arrived with their pancakes and Tony dug in immediately.

"Who does he think we are, kindergarteners?" Tony took a large bite of pancake and spoke with his mouth full.

"I don't know DiNozzo, you're sure eatin' like one," Gibbs' voice sounded through the earwig, and Tony jumped out of his skin. He knocked over his glass of water in alarm and Ziva snorted into her orange juice.

"We were just eating breakfast, Boss," Tony explained, trying desperately to mop up the cold water with his thin napkin.

"I'm sure you were DiNozzo,"

"Yeah, um, we were thinking about taking a coupley ice skating expedition next door after breakfast, if you and Veronica want to join." Ziva was a little astonished at Tony's passive-aggressive comment, and wondered if he had earned an off-duty head slap. Gibbs seemed unfazed though, for his voice sounded calm and wary as it usually did.

He proceeded to brief Tony and Ziva on the advancements in the case and filled them in on more circumstantial information that would really come in use when they were finally contacted in two days time.

Feeling much better about the whole thing, the fake couple shuffled out of the breakfast nook and made their way to the ice rink.

* * *

><p><em>Hey everyone, a special thanks to <em>trixie111_, _sonckad_, __Josette1807, jerseybelle, AliyahNCIS, __EMT1215__, cindy76877, __DS2010__, and __(guests) Debbie and Sue Dooley for the follows and reviews.㈵6 You guys made my day. This chapter was a little slow, and to be honest, I'm not very happy with it, but the ice skating should be fun... _

_I will try to update somewhere around two weeks. I'm sorry that it takes me so long to update. It takes me kinda long to write so I'll do my best to update. _

_-Kaylee_


End file.
